


Latin Lover

by Nuraicha



Category: Muse
Genre: Alternate Universe, Italy, Latin, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-08
Updated: 2014-05-08
Packaged: 2018-01-24 01:03:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1585976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nuraicha/pseuds/Nuraicha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Dominic is a shy teenager who goes to Italy to make his dream come true. Will he be distracted by a certain Italian boy?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Latin Lover

**Author's Note:**

> **Beta-reader:** the awesome [maxcellwire](http://archiveofourown.org/users/maxcellwire/pseuds/maxcellwire)
> 
> **Disclaimer:** This is fiction and I don't want to offend anyone. I'm not making money of this. I don't own Muse, just the plot. This is pure fantasy and it isn't real and never will be. Any coincidence with real people is unintended.
> 
> **Author's note:** So many things to say about this one! Therefore, I'll keep the long and real author's note for the end of the chapter and now I'll just say that, if you want to see the translations of Italian words, hover over the text and you'll get the meaning in English. Enjoy and, please, if you read, tell me what you think! :)
> 
> Also, please be aware that this is a WIP and the rating will increase and new tags will be added as the story evolves.

“Hurry up, or we’re going to be late!”

“Calm down, Dominic, if the stereotypes about the Italians are true you shouldn’t be worried about missing the train.”

“That isn’t the matter, Tom, we’re talking about trains, they’re supposed to be on time, in Rome, in London and in every part of the world!”

“Relax and enjoy the view! You won’t get the chance to see things like that so often at Teignmouth.”

Dominic looked in the direction Tom was pointing at, discovering the impressive big church he have been missing out, as neurotical as he was in order to walk quickly and arrive soon at the train station. Observing the white walls, elegantly decorated with Corinthian pilasters and false hollows, proclaiming to the world that it was Renaissance architecture - or at least Dominic thought.

“Moreover, if you don’t pay more attention to where are you walking by, you might get hit by some car,” Tom reasoned, rolling his eyes when two bikes passed at a roaring speed, infracting the green lights for pedestrians as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

Probably it was, at least in Rome.

Dominic nodded, carefully looking from left to right to make sure he wasn’t going to get hit by any vehicle, crossing the road and mentally scolding himself for being so impatient.

But how could he be patient when he was going to have his dreams come true and he was at a new country for the first time in his life?

“Will it take long to arrive to… what was it called?” Dominic stopped a moment to snap a photo of the building, chuckling internally looking at the obelisk who reigned in the middle of the little square. It was quite amusing seeing how many pagan elements were present in the heart of Catholicism.

“Something like Fross-ee-known,” tried Tom making his best impression of an Italian accent, prompting a badly disguised laugh from Dominic. “Oi! I’m sure you can’t pronounce it better than me!”

“Sure, sure.” Dominic apologised, mildly embarrassed. In occasions like this, it was difficult to remember Thomas Kirk was his teacher and not just a friend who was hanging out with him at Rome. Still, given how few friends Dominic had, Thomas could certainly count in the category, or at least being somehow close. With him, Dominic felt as though they were colleagues and at the same level, something he couldn’t have with the other teachers.

Tom smiled, patting Dominic’ shoulder as he passed by, smiling him reassuringly.

“I was just kidding, Dominic. Do you have your pics done?” Dominic nodded, looking at the church for the last time. It was such a pity right after the contest they were going to fly directly to London, without more time for sightseeing; they had been lucky their early flight had allowed them to at least spent some quality time contemplating the main landscapes, such as the Colosseum, the Pantheon and the Spain Square. Dominic had made up his mind since the first minute at Rome that he would return to this city in the future. It simply was too beautiful to remain completely unexplored.

“Then, avanti my bahmbinoh!” Tom exclaimed, pointing forwards and getting a pair of curious looks from some Japanese couple who were bombarding the church with their cameras.

Dominic couldn’t help but smile at Tom’s try to speak in Italian, and followed him, smiling contently while the warm rays of spring sun caressed his skin, reminding him again this was so different from his natal Teignmouth.

This was infinitely better.

***

“Are you sure this is the correct train?” Dominic asked nervously, his eyes inspecting the wagon, looking for some kind of imaginative evidence that proved to him that this was the train that was taking him to his dream.

The place, however, didn’t offer him any clue of this. It was just a simple carriage with white and plain boring walls, windows with their corners rounded and seats covered in blue fabric, aligned in two rows. It didn’t look much different from any British train, except for the fragments of Italian conversation he could hear from the rest of the people in the wagon. He closed his eyes for a moment, pressing his fingers to his temple and massaging gently; he was only used to hearing chattering in English, or maybe Tom reciting in Latin, but nothing more. All the day listening to incredibly fast Italian voices was doing his head in and he felt worried because he could barely understand more than two or three words. What would he do at the contest if he had to talk with some Italian person?

“Calm down, Dominic. You have checked our tickets five times since we sat here! It’s the right train, Termini-Frosinone, at 16:07 and… Oh!” Tom beamed a giant smile when the train started moving even before he could lift his sleeve to look at his wrist watch. “Here we go!” He finally looked at the time and smiled again, nodding: “And at the right time! Well done, Italy!”

Dominic just looked out of the window, observing how the train was slowly moving, some people on the platform waving their hands, as they watched how the machine advanced, separating them from their friends, partners, lovers. He wondered how many of them were saying goodbye to another Latin fellow, like he and Tom were. Were other participants on that same train? In that exact wagon?

He looked around once more, analyzing the people who he could see. An elderly woman reading a newspaper, surrounded by plastic bags that screamed ‘groceries’ sprawled at her feet and on the seat at her side. A young couple on the seats closer to theirs, animatedly talking, the man grimacing while his partner laughed and moved her hands to try to express her idea more accurately. A forty-something man with glasses, focused on a huge book who had a girl of around Dominic’s age sitting beside him, eyes closed and head moving at the rhythm of the music emanating from her earplugs. Could she be another participant?

He sighed and looked through the window again, his stomach churning aggressively while he observed the ugly and old blocks of flats of the outskirts of Rome. It wasn’t as different to his country land, but he still could tell the differences in the slightest details, like the graffiti with cryptic sentences to him that decorated the surface of the walls that separated the buildings from the tracks, or the casual advertising banner on passing, with spectacular women with bright smiles talking about who knew what.

He was in Italy and he couldn’t believe it. He had made it.

“The lares send us good omens!” Tom announced, bringing Dominic out of his reverie.

“What?”

“Just checked again our application details and I noticed something! Look at the name of our hotel!” He handed Dominic the papers and he took them, curiously reading the details for the first time.

It could seem bizarre, knowing how much he had wanted this trip, but he barely knew any practical details, like accommodation. The main condition his parents had imposed on him, before accepting that he took part in the contest and letting him go, was that he had to still be focused on ‘more important subjects’, like his Math tests or the sending of application letters for universities. Therefore, he had to work double, to still have high marks in every subject his parents considered ‘worth learning’ while translating as many texts as he could for practicing.

The only things he knew about the Certamen Ciceronianum Arpinas was that he had to work his arse off to win. He had to win. It was his only objective, the only thing he really looked forward to in this whole journey. Proving to his parents his future was the Latin language.

Dominic quickly read over their names, information about his high school, the cost of their application and, finally, their accommodation.

“Hotel Vittoria?” He said, unsurely pronouncing the last word.

Vittoria?

“Victory! ‘The Victory Hotel’! I can’t believe they have a hotel called like that! Italians are crazy!” Tom laughed loudly, shaking his head in disbelief.

Dominic gaze was only focused on those printed words that shone to his eyes as he imagined the marbles of the Temple of Jupiter Stator which would have gleamed to Cicero’s sight while he pronounced the immortal words of his first Catiline Orations.

“Victoria, victoriae,” he quietly declined, weighing the ancient word in his tongue.

A good omen indeed.

He smiled and closed his eyes, sitting more comfortably in the rigid seat. His stomach calmed down for the first time in hours.

***

“Dominic, just relax. You already know his life by heart and we both know it, remember I am your teacher.”

Dominic turned his head away from the pages of notes he was reading about Marcus Tullius Cicero. Those were just a ‘brief’ summary of ten pages of his life; Dominic had read all the books he could have reached, both from the school library and Thomas’ personal collection, and duly noted everything he had judged useful for the commentary he knew he had to do along with the translation. Tom had reminded him hundreds of times the commentary had to be a balanced text about the contents of the translation, the historical context and a comparative with something from the modern world, which meant he didn’t have to remember every piece of detail of Cicero’s life and his work. Still, Dominic had refused to listen and had learnt everything he could about him, hoping it could serve him in the commentary. Writing a good one could make the difference between average and perfection.

“There’s nothing wrong in revising once more,” he smiled shyly, but tugged his eyes from his notebook, rubbing them with the heel of his hands. He had dozed off for around 15 or 20 minutes, the effort of waking up early and their rushed visit to Rome finally making his body give in to sleep. However, Dominic still felt tired and the nervousness had returned, his stomach a mine field and his position tense.

He cracked his neck, looking at his teacher and politely asking:

“Do you have any Jammie Dodgers left?”

Tom just smiled, standing up from his seat to reach for the higher shelf, retrieving his messenger bag and opening it, looking for the biscuits.

“There are just two,” he commented, leaving the bag back in place and giving Dominic one of the biscuits.

Dominic bit into it, smiling and feeling happy that, even with all the pressure of facing the most important Latin translation of his life, he could have his incredible teacher by his side.

It was thanks to Thomas Kirk that Dominic had felt in love with dead languages. He had always been interested in Ancient Rome and had lots of books about the topic, but he had never thought of taking up the Latin subject. In fact, when he talked about it to his parents, they just laughed and said that Latin was useless and he should study something that would make him earn money in the future, like Informatics or at least a living language, like the German his mother was able to speak in perfectly.

He had tried German, he really did. But he dreaded it and, even if his marks weren’t that low, his parents still were infuriated with him and, especially, with the teacher. They even went to talk with the headmaster, saying their kid couldn’t be possibly be bad at anything; even if the lovely Mrs. Noble told them Dominic wasn’t doing that awfully, his parents agreed that path couldn’t be the best for Dominic, who shouldn’t have his average results threatened at any rate. Then Mrs. Noble suggested he could take up something he was more interested in.

And then was when Tom came in, like a saviour angel. He was a fairly new teacher, at least in that school, but he had fame of being a very good one and the kind of person that made his pupils interested in the subject no matter what, and who, and most importantly for Dominic’s parents, made them pass easily.

They allowed him to start to study Latin and Dominic, for the first time in quite a while, felt motivated to actually learn anything, not just because ‘it was useful’ or ‘it was what he had to do’, but because he liked doing it.

And he fell in love with that sensation.

Latin wasn’t as difficult as he had thought, given that the first statement Tom had made in front of his class (they weren’t many, just eight students) had been that they had it more difficult than people who spoke romance languages, as the roots of the words came from a very different origin. Nevertheless, Dominic quickly learnt the basics and, towards the end of his first year studying it, he was the best student of the class, and Tom had told him he really had potential as a Latinist.

But Dominic knew that couldn’t be his future. Not when the concept his parents had of a ‘successful’ professional career was a job that involved a consistent check at the end of the month and that could offer him diverse chances of working places. A Latinist? How could he want to do that, ending up teaching a language nobody used or even being a scholar in the university? That wasn’t good enough, he would waste his life with it.

It was hard not having the support of his parents for something he truly enjoyed.

Until Tom talked about the Certamen Ciceronianum Arpinas during one class. That had been two years ago and Dominic had realised that was his escape door, the way he could use to convince his parents Latin could be useful. Nothing convinces a couple of materialistic people of the value of something more than if that can make you earn money.

And that was how everything started. Slowly, Dominic made his way through the details of Marcus Tullius Cicero’s life, one of the greatest orators that had ever existed in the Republican Rome, famous for his accurate speeches and the difficult way of articulating sentences and words, making the task of translating his work something arduous and complicated to most students.

However, for Dominic, every text he had to translate to prepare himself for the Certamen was a proof he could do it, he could really be a Latinist if he wanted. He had been desperate and sleepless so many nights, searching frantically in his dictionary, trying to decipher whatever Cicero was trying to say without losing his neurons in the way. He had been tempted so many times to give up, just tearing all his annotations, lines and paragraphs and binning them, telling Tom he couldn’t do it, Cicero was too difficult for him and how in the hell could he win against the Italians, who practically spoke the language most close to Latin you could get?

Those moments of desperation passed soon, every time he thought the Certamen could be the definitive step towards the future he craved.

Moreover, the chance of going to a foreign country for the first time in his life and visiting the Roman monuments was something he wouldn’t want to miss for anything.

“We’re almost arriving at Frosinone,” Tom commented, looking at his watch again and smiling brightly. It was impossible for Dominic not to reciprocate the smile of his awesome teacher; Tom was almost as worked up about the Certamen as him, the prospect of taking one of his students there so important for him. If Dominic won, even if it wasn’t the first award, it would be something that would bring him a kind of fame among his colleagues and, most importantly, it would convince the headmaster and the other members of the school direction that teaching Latin was something useful and that could bring prestige to the high school.

Dominic couldn’t know, but Tom had fought for him going to the Certamen almost as much as he had fought in home to get the approbation of his parents: the money used for the signing up of the event had been from the school, even if Dominic and Tom had had to pay for their plane tickets. Fortunately, the signing up included everything they needed, from accommodation to meals, so the amount of euros they would have to spend wouldn’t be that much.

“Is that close to Arpino?” Dominic asked, palming his jeans pockets to find the Latium region map he knew he had inserted in them at some point of the morning.

“More or less, but we aren’t staying at either Frosinone or Arpino, but Fiuggi.” Dominic gave him a puzzled look, finally holding between his hands the map a charming man had given them at the Tourist Information Point of the station of Rome-Termini; Tom had tried telling him they were going to participate in a Latin translation contest but the man didn’t know anything about that, and simply had offered them the map when Tom told him they had to go to Frosinone and the cities nearby.

“Give it to me,” Tom asked, holding out his hand to indicate to Dominic that he needed the map. He gave it to him, who opened it and quickly located the city. Clearly he had done his research before leaving the UK, not like Dominic, too focused on remembering every part of a normal speech pattern or the date in which Cicero’s daughter had died.

“This is Frosinone, the biggest city around, that’s why we’re going there with the train,” he started explaining, indicating Dominic each place with his index finger, “and this smaller point here is Fiuggi, the city where the participants will stay, because Arpino, as you might have noticed for the lack of signalization in this map of ours, is too small to host the almost 200 people that are coming. But it shouldn’t be that far away from it.”

Dominic nodded, looking at foreign names curiously, wondering how Fiuggi would look. He had heard Tom joking once about how they should take a relaxing bath after the translation was done, as the city was famous for its spas and health resorts. Dominic couldn’t obtain more information because, as soon as he heard the word ‘spa’, he got reminded of the incredible account of acronyms existing formed by Latin words, and he started figuring out how he could use that as another argument for proving to his parents Latin was worth learning.

He bit his lip shyly, getting progressively more and more embarrassed of his ignorance about everything that wasn’t the plain translation. He didn’t even have a clear idea of what they would do the day they had to wait until the judges had corrected all the texts!

“Right, so we’re going to stay at Fiuggi and what about the rest of the days?” He finally asked, avoiding Tom’s gaze and nervously scratching his nose.

But Tom, as always, was smiling in a friendly manner and started telling him their whole schedule.

“Well, today it’s just the day they’re receiving all the participants, so there isn’t really anything to do but rest. Tomorrow you will do the translation and we, the teachers, will have to go to a conference or something like that; honestly, I don’t plan to go if it’s in Italian, I prefer to go looking for pretty Italian ladies.” Tom winked at Dominic, who blushed in embarrassment. He knew he didn’t mean it, as Tom had a lovely girlfriend called Jane, but he still wasn’t used to Tom’s jokes.

Dominic’s attitude made him laugh loudly, patting his back a few time for calming him down.

“Relax! I’ll leave some girl for you!” He winked and Dominic swallowed heavily and looked at his lap.

He hadn’t told Tom he didn’t like girls.

Well, he hadn’t told anyone.

But Tom had started talking again and Dominic forced himself to listen, pushing away the confusing thoughts about his sexual identity.

“So, after lunch we’ll visit Arpino. It seems they have like some kind of acropolis! It must be interesting… On Saturday the organization will take us to visit several places of the region and on Sunday it’s the award ceremony. Thrilling, isn’t it? I can’t believe they can mark hundreds of texts in just one day, I’d be driven nuts…”

“This is so awesome!” Dominic said out of the blue, instantly feeling a bit awkward for letting out his enthusiasm so suddenly. But he had started to think of the fun he could have after the translation and that made him feel absolutely wonderful, liberating his stomach from the nerves for a few seconds.

Tom nodded, grinning as enthusiastically as Dominic.

“This is going to be a wonderful experience, you’ll see.”

***

The train arrived at Frosinone shortly after, and while they were searching for the exit in the platform, Dominic could observe easily that, as he had thought, there were more participants apart from him in the train, as the space was filled with people that looked his age carrying luggage, everybody accompanied by an adult.

“Look, Dominic, let’s follow that girl and that man who were in our wagon. They look like colleagues of us.” Dominic searched through the cramped place for who Tom was talking about, until his eyes landed on the girl about whom he had wondered earlier if she was going to the Certamen as well.

Dominic and Tom followed the couple through several doors in the station until they arrived the hall and the main entrance. As soon as they left the train station, they were welcomed by an improvised banner, attached to a fence in front of the building and with large letters that announced “Certamen Ciceroniano” under a huge black arrow that pointed towards their left.  
Their train must have been the one preferred for a big sector of the participants, as they could see more and more people walking towards the same objective: an open space of sand near the station, which had been used as a parking for the buses that would take everybody to their hotels.

At the entrance a brunet man was waiting, a bit taller than Tom and an obvious fan of gyms, if his bulky appearance and impressive biceps indicated something. He was wearing sun glasses and flashing everybody a big smile, holding a folder with papers in his large hands.

"Ciao e benvunuti! Italiani?" The man greeted them when they approached him. Tom shook his head, smiling softly.

“English, scusi.”

“Va benissimo! Please, give me your names and I’ll show you which is the bus you have to take.” The man spoke correctly, but with a heavy Italian accent that made Dominic smile softly.

“Dominic Howard and Thomas Kirk, from Devon, England.” Tom explained, and the man started searching in his lists for their names.

“Regno Unito! It had been a while since the last time we had participants from there,” he commented, still looking at his papers.

“Really?” Tom said unnecessarily, opting for making small talk.

“Yeah. I’ve been in the organization of the Certamen for a couple of years and I have never seen one, even if some older colleagues have… Here you are! Hotel Vittoria, right?”

“That’s us!” Tom nodded and the man crossed out their names.

“It’s the bus number 5, but make sure you get into the right bus. There should be some of my companions there to tell you. Good bye and buona fortuna!” He wished them, directing this time his white smile to Dominic, who muttered a timid ‘grazie’ before turning away and following Tom to search their transport.

“It’s good to know that Italians speak English way slower than they do with their language,” Dominic commented, groaning with the effort that was taking his suitcase through the sandy ground.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll be lucky and your roommate will speak fine English.”

“Well, that’s obvious, you’re British!” Dominic laughed, sighing with relief when he could see their bus, a huge sheet of paper with the number ‘5’ in the front window. Surrounding the bus there were several people with their luggage, making small groups and chatting between them, excitedly.

“What?” Tom asked, stopping near the vehicle and wiping the sweat off his forehead. He had had trouble carrying his suitcase as well, and he wasn’t used to a sun that actually warmed anything, and less so at the beginning of May.

“You’re my room mate, and you speak English,” Dominic reasoned, looking at him while panic slowly started to rise.

“What? Didn’t you know teachers and students have separate rooms? You’re going to stay with an Italian fellow!” He said, looking at Dominic with surprise.

“WHAT?!” Dominic couldn’t help but squealing, his eyes opening wide in plain shock.

“I thought you would like being away from me! It must be weird travelling on your own with your Latin teacher!” Tom tried to explain him, worried by the obvious fear displayed in Dominic’s eyes. He knew Dominic wasn’t the most social boy in school but… Was he really this shy to be absolutely terrified by the prospect of sharing the room with a stranger?

“I, I –” Dominic started to say, walking away from Tom unconsciously. He forgot his suitcase was behind him, colliding against it.

The suitcase and Dominic fell helplessly, unintentionally taking with them another suitcase that had been located right behind Dominic’s.

“Fuck!” Dominic swore from the ground, rubbing his hand against his right side, that had been hit heavily by one of the suitcases.

“La mia valigia! Attenzione, cazzo!”

“Dominic! Are you okay?”

Dominic opened his eyes. He saw Tom, quickly kneeling at his feet to inspect the damage, a worried expression painting his face. With Tom was another person, a boy of Dominic’s age, clearly the one whose suitcase had been ‘attacked’ by Dominic’s clumsiness.

Dominic looked at the boy, transfixed by the amazing blue of his eyes. The boy, who had been sporting an annoyed face, relaxed his mouth until his lips curled into a mysterious smirk.

Well, clearly Italy’s fame of being the land of sexy and attractive men wasn’t for nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> The church Dominic is looking at is called [Santa Maria Maggiore](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Basilica_di_Santa_Maria_Maggiore). As Dominic and Tom are walking towards the station of Termini from the Coliseum, the street they're in is Via Cavour and the perspective of the church they're viewing is the back. [Here](http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/b/bd/Piazza_Esquilino,_Santa_Maria_Maggiore.JPG) you have a photo of it.
> 
> The [lares](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lares) were Roman deities of each family, with a protective function, so that's why Tom invokes them.
> 
> [Here](http://www.winecountry.it/assets/regionpages/lazio1.gif) you have a map of the regions of Latium. In next chapters I'll post another one so you can see where exactly the places are.
> 
> Last but not least, the Certamen Ciceronianum, or Certamen Ciceroniano in Italian, is real. I will give you more details about it as the story develops, but if you are curious you can read about it [here](http://certamenciceronianum.it/) (Italian only, sorry).
> 
> Also, if you have any questions about anything don't hesitate in asking me :)


End file.
